


Afterparty

by jackelope



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Bathroom shyness, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Crying, Desperation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Humiliation, Implied AU, Kink Discovery, M/M, Omorashi, Wetting, omo-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackelope/pseuds/jackelope
Summary: Out of all the countless ways a date could go wrong, Will never would have anticipated one ending up quite like this.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 130





	Afterparty

**Author's Note:**

> so I wrote a hannigram watersports fic a little while ago, and people seemed to like that one I guess? so I thought abt writing something more omorashi-centric, and...here it is, I'm proud or ashamed, can't tell which. mostly omorashi/desperation, some hurt/comfort bc I'm just a sucker for that kinda stuff, and a lil bit of smut at the end if you make it all the way through
> 
> the working title for this was literally just 'poor will pisses himself' and basically that's it,, I can't believe I did this to my good boy ngl but I couldn't resist...

It was just supposed to be a normal date.

Left to his own devices, Will would never have shared in Hannibal's socialite lifestyle, but he was more than willing to endure all kinds of dull, upper-class social events in the name of having a nice date with his boyfriend. Hannibal knew Will didn't share most of his tastes, and was never too insistent about inviting Will along but always very grateful when he did accept. Often, Hannibal preferred to host his own parties – which Will had heard from other guests were 'splendid', but he didn't find them quite so thrilling. If he wasn't hosting his own dinner party, he often enjoyed an opera, a symphony, a ballet, or some such – and, every now and again, he would also come out to attend someone else's gathering.

The latter was what drew Hannibal and his date out on that fateful night. It was a celebration of someone or other's paintings being inducted into some supposedly significant art gallery somewhere (the details of these kinds of things had a tendency to go in one of Will's ears and out the other), and Hannibal, the active high-society citizen he was, had been extended an invitation, which came with the typical extension of inviting a 'plus one'. That unspoken companion was, of course, to be Will. Will was always a bit more uncertain when Hannibal wasn't in charge of the situation, but this get-together didn't sound so bad. It was in a hotel ballroom, so it wasn't like it was some stranger's house or anything, and Hannibal had implied that it would be a bit more of a relaxed atmosphere than his usual fare. Will had shyly agreed to come along; he knew it would make Hannibal happy. And, from a more shallow perspective, Hannibal often thanked him with sex afterwards.

So, that was how Will ended up going to the art-whatever-afterparty. Everything had gone smoothly enough at first, Will getting done up in what was essentially his one and only set of formal-enough clothes and sitting through the obligatory compliments on how handsome he looked from Hannibal. Small talk and passive flirtation filled the car ride back into Baltimore, Will's nerves not fluttering until they pulled into the parking lot. This was typical; Will had never liked large crowds, even ones as droll and meandering as those at the parties Hannibal took him to, and he always felt at least a little uneasy before he went in. But, he faced it nonetheless, stepping out of the car alongside Hannibal and sticking close to him as they headed towards the door. Warm light washed through the regal halls as well-dressed guests flowed through them, filtering into the lavishly-appointed ballroom.

It was beautiful, certainly, awash with pale, warm colors and a faint smell of perfume which permeated the air from the countless similar scents that radiated off of the sluggish sea of people, but that was not enough to calm Will's fluttering heart. Hannibal gently took Will's hand in his own, and Will turned his face away from the crowd, hoping no stranger would take note of the faint blush that began to appear on his face. “If you're nervous, then you can stay with me.” Murmured Hannibal, leaning close so that nobody else would incidentally hear him.

“I'm alright.” Will retorted. “Don't worry about me.” He insisted, perhaps a touch aggressive in his persistence. Hannibal scrutinized him for a split second before leaning in gracefully to touch the corner of his lip with a soft kiss. He said nothing, and Will uttered no response but a soft snort of disdain.

Will let go of Hannibal's hand, but stayed at his side as he dove into the crowd to speak with someone he apparently recognized. Will knew a few of Hannibal's acquaintances, and they had a few mutual friends, but other than that his social connections utterly confounded Will and he typically didn't even really pretend to remember people he had met at Hannibal's parties. Rather, he smiled and nodded when he was reintroduced to them and feigned reasonable interest in what they said. He certainly did not share the interests of so-called 'high society' members, and was beyond puzzled at the triviality of certain things they concerned themselves with. What he knew about high art (which this was a party about, apparently) he had learned mostly through osmosis from his contact with Hannibal and his social circle. He didn't have much to say on the subject at all, but Hannibal was kind enough to dilute things for him and make sure to only prompt Will with simple enough statements for him to elaborate on. In many ways, Hannibal was all but an expert and making Will seem much more eloquent and cosmopolitan than he actually was – though Will didn't always play along with quite as much effort as Hannibal put forth.

Hannibal, the more social of them, was typically pulled in many different directions by eager acquaintances looking to bend his ear to conversation, but Will tried his best to stick close to him whenever he could; being jostled into conversations without him felt like floundering in the ocean without a lifeline. For the most part, he was quiet and reserved, idly listening in on Hannibal's conversations with only occasional comments. Once he had a glass of wine or two down, he managed to become a little more talkative, but that wasn't always for the better, as Will wasn't exactly the prim and proper type if left to his own devices, and bits of his genuine personality shining through meant he was more liable to let slip a snarky quip or two. Of course, he kept himself from drinking _too_ much, but a little bit of intoxication made these droll experiences more bearable.

After a bit of wine, Will switched over to some non-alcoholic offerings instead; constant conversation and nerves left his mouth perpetually dry, and he needed _something_ to abate that uncomfortable feeling lest he trip over his words even more. Plus, taking a sip from a glass was a fine way to fill an awkward silence where there should've been speech. This incessant drinking wouldn't have been a problem except for the fact that it didn't take too long at all for it to gravitate towards his bladder. _That_ shouldn't have been a problem, either; he could just go to the bathroom, right? Except this wasn't Hannibal's house, or even someone else's house – it was a hotel. That meant he had to use the public bathroom in the lobby, and _that_ shouldn't have been an issue either, but it made Will feel a pang of dread deep in the pit of his stomach.

Will didn't like public bathrooms. Or, it might've been more accurate to say he _hated_ public bathrooms; he'd suffered from so-called 'stage fright' his whole life, and not just at urinals. When he was a kid, his father had always reassured him that he'd grow out of it, which had served to comfort him at the time, but that promise had never actually come to fruition. Will was thirty-five now and _still_ hopelessly bathroom shy, as embarrassing as it was. He'd _never_ been able to use a urinal in a bathroom that wasn't completely empty, and even sequestering himself in a stall the sound of people moving around, coming in and out and murmuring and shuffling back and forth at the urinals and the stalls near him was too much. Letting go while he could all but hear other people _breathing_ next to him felt like an insurmountable obstacle, no matter how badly he had to piss. He had only ever managed to actually use a public restroom on a few very sparse and very desperate occasions.

When he first felt the urge start to prick in his lower abdomen, he weighed his options and reasoned that he could hold it. He had no idea how much longer this party was bound to last; these outings of theirs could often go on for several hours, but Will, due in no small part to his particular hangups around public bathrooms, had some experience with holding it in for an extended period of time. Though it had been a while since he'd last had to, he was still willing to try. What he hadn't taken into account, however, was that those previous times he had not been drinking as frequently as he had tonight, and even slowing down on that front as much as he dared there was still more than enough in his system for his bladder to get much fuller in a very short amount of time. Twenty or so minutes after he'd first debated his options, Will was rethinking things.

The pressure, first merely a nagging twinge at the back of his mind, was now constant and heavy. Every time he moved too much he could all but feel the liquid sloshing back and forth in his full bladder, and he had to consciously focus to keep himself from wincing. The thought of holding it until they left the party now made his heart flutter with apprehension. That could still be a long time to wait. He knew, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach (completely separate from the constantly tightening pinch right above his groin), that he would have to at least attempt to use the bathroom here.

Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad – maybe the bathroom wouldn't be that busy. Maybe his need to relieve himself would outweigh his nerves and he'd actually be able to piss, at least enough to tide him over until they were ready to leave. Will kept a careful ear to the conversation as it bobbed and floated through the air the same way leaves danced in the wind, eventually slowing and brushing the ground, giving Will just enough time to politely excuse himself before it picked up again. Once the opportunity arose, Will struck it quickly; he quietly pulled Hannibal towards him and hurriedly whispered, “Hey – I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be back in a minute.”

Will hadn't expected Hannibal to ask, “Would you like me to come with you?” The question made Will's cheeks feel hot; he was plenty awkward in social situations, and usually welcomed Hannibal's calming presence, but the thought of needing someone to come with him to the _bathroom_ felt horribly embarrassing. Hannibal was just trying to make sure Will was alright, of course, and that his nerves didn't overwhelm him. He had never berated Will for his being anxious or sensitive and indeed had seemed to be very patient and understanding, but that didn't prevent Will from berating _himself_ for such.

“No, I'll be fine.” Will blurted his answer out in a thoughtless attempt to protect himself from that tinge of shame. Will tried kept his eyes towards the floor as he all but speed-walked out of the event room and towards the front lobby, making sure he didn't make accidental eye contact so that nobody was as likely to notice the faint blush and flustered expression on his face. He had no idea where the bathroom actually was, but he fortunately happened to easily catch sight of a sign which pointed him in the right direction.

His heart was humming in his throat as he followed the restroom plaque. He scolded himself for being so nervous over something so normal, but knew that no amount of self-loathing would change the circumstances. As he came upon the entrance to the bathrooms, his heart plummeted clear from the back of his mouth straight to his feet. There was a small line standing outside the women's restroom, which almost always meant the men's room was probably plenty busy itself. Will pressed his lips together; he wanted to turn around immediately and scurry back into the ballroom and keep pretending like everything was fine. However, he needed to pee too badly. He needed to _try_.

His palms felt clammy and sweaty as he pushed open the door to the men's room. His gaze was glued to the floor, not even able to glance in the direction of the men standing at the urinals. He was sweating under his collar and it took all of his remaining courage to dart towards a stall with its door slightly ajar, immediately turning to lock it behind him so that he could feel at least the slightest bit sequestered. His fingers slipped off the lock when he first tried to close it and he had to struggle to get a grip on it the second time.

Will let his weight fall back against the door for a moment. Okay, he could do this. It didn't matter that he had a center stall and he could hear other people moving around, their hard-soled shoes rapping against the tile. It didn't matter that he could hear other people _breathing_ , fiddling with zippers, relieving themselves at the urinals. After a few deep breaths, Will reached his hands down to unfasten his belt and unzip his fly. A few moments of staring down at the hollow, white void of the toilet ensued – during which his body allowed not a single drop of piss to escape – followed by Will closing his eyes and leaning his head back, gently holding his dick still in an attempt to negate the faint shivering of his body. He had worked himself up so much that his stage fright felt even _worse_ now, his nerves crackling with anxiety, the pressure in his bladder refusing to budge. He could hear someone swinging the door open, hear someone cough quietly into his elbow, hear someone else fiddling with his belt buckle as it clicked back and forth against itself. He felt so _exposed_ , as if there was somebody standing right at his back and breathing down his collar, leering at him with burning eyes while he tried desperately to release.

Will's lip quivered in a weak gasp that narrowly avoided becoming a sob. He had to piss so badly, but he _couldn't._ Desperate, he palmed along his lower abdomen until he felt the knot of tension where his bladder was, then bore his fingertips down on that spot as forcefully as he dared. All it did was hurt. Will bit down on his lower lip to stifle the feeble whimper that welled up in his throat. He pressed even harder onto his bladder, chewing his lip to bear the pain it caused. He was caught off guard when a spurt of piss finally came, and almost gasped at the sudden rush. It only lasted for a split second before stopping just as abruptly as it had started.

_Fuck_. Pushing on his bladder was causing his fingers to dig into his skin, and Will stopped and pulled his hand back not a moment later. It was more painful than it was rewarding; he'd managed nothing but a minuscule drop of relief. He was still almost as full as he'd been before. Will rocked his weight back and forth, feeling any hope he had left continue to drain from him with every passing moment. After a very brief, tense wait, a mercifully loud toilet flush dominated the auditory atmosphere, and Will managed to let go for a few more seconds in his blissful deafness. He relaxed into it; he could do this, he could finish. However, that euphoria was just as short-lived as he feared it would be. Once the noise died down, an _“Excuse me”_ from someone nearly walking into someone else hit his ears like freezing water and his stream cut itself off in an instant.

Will sighed softly to himself. This was fast proving to be futile. If he was only able to piss in such brief bursts, then trying to properly relieve himself would take _hours_ , not to mention the fact that his bladder would probably keep filling faster than he could empty it. Plus, eventually Hannibal would get worried and have to come in and check on him – and how embarrassing _that_ would be! The mere thought made Will restless to leave; the last thing he wanted was for Hannibal to come in calling for him and asking if he was okay in front of everyone else here.

Will quietly zipped his pants up, jammed down the plunger on the toilet, and made his way out of the stall and towards the sinks. After anxiously over-washing his hands, he all but sprinted back towards the event room, still convinced somewhere in his mind that Hannibal was on the verge of leaving to go look for him. When he returned, however, Hannibal greeted him kindly, showing no sign of obvious concern. Will never would've thought he'd be glad to slide back into such dull conversation, but it was miles better than nervously hiding in the bathroom losing a staring contest with an empty toilet.

What little relief he'd managed to garner himself did not last long. Within minutes the adrenaline of fretting had worn off and he was once again brutally aware of the fullness of his bladder, this time added to the positively _leaden_ feeling that came from knowing he was in it for the long haul. He was now quite resolutely determined not to go back to the bathroom, and the last thing he wanted to do was try to explain himself to Hannibal. How could he? He was embarrassed enough for himself; he didn't need or want Hannibal to be embarrassed for him too. Just imagining having to ride back to Hannibal's in awkward silence because he had to go all the way back _there_ to use the bathroom instead of just using the one that was _at the hotel_ like a normal person was enough to scare Will into just about anything, including trying to hold in his urine for perhaps an unreasonably long amount of time. Will insisted to himself that there was no way they would stay for _that_ much longer.

It was startlingly soon after he got back that he started thinking of possible excuses that would convince Hannibal to take him home early. He'd already resolved not to tell Hannibal the truth, but at the same time he felt bad thinking about lying to him. He might get worried if Will feigned some sort of ailment to get out of here, and it didn't help either that Hannibal was much too keen for any amateur falsehood to slip past his senses undetected. With his body under such duress, Will likely wouldn't be able to deceive him with much skill – not to mention his weak resolve. Ultimately, he was too conflicted.

He said nothing – and it grew harder and harder to ignore how overburdened his bladder was. As minutes ticked by into an hour and beyond, discomfort compounded to pain and that pain only intensified, to the point where just moving around sent jolts from his groin through his lower abdomen that felt like electrical shocks. It was hard not to wince or bite his lip every time he walked around. Hannibal, of course, being the ever-perceptive bastard that he was, picked up on Will's agitation and asked him what was wrong.

“My feet hurt.” Will deflected, the lie sticking to the inside of his dry mouth. Hannibal gave a curt nod of acknowledgment.

“Well, let's find you a spot to sit down, then.” He promptly declared, maneuvering through the crowds to find an unoccupied seat for Will. “We'll leave soon.” He reassured Will, standing behind him while he sat down and gently smoothing Will's hair with the back of his hand.

Sitting down was a moderate improvement, mostly because Will could cross his legs without it being conspicuous. The realization that he would eventually have to stand up from this position came a few moments later, staved off by the initial relief, though it certainly did occur to him. However, reasoning that there was little he could do about that now, he remained seated. Hannibal had promised that they would leave soon, which meant he wouldn't have to hold it for that much longer. He knew very well that ' _soon'_ was an entirely indeterminate frame of time and it could end up being close to another full hour before they actually left the party, but the promise had invigorated his sense of hope enough that the details didn't matter.

Relief was in sight. However, that didn't mean the situation wouldn't still get worse before it got better. The anticipation almost worsened his desperation and Hannibal could clearly tell that Will was uncomfortable. Miraculously, Hannibal did not question him – perhaps he simply assumed Will was feeling (mentally) overstimulated by the constant social pressure and thus decided it was better not to bother him. Will felt almost unworthy of such conscientiousness on his behalf, and indeed a little guilty for hiding the truth from Hannibal. But this wasn't really the time nor the place to confess everything that had led up to this point anyway; maybe next time Hannibal invited him out to a party like this he'd bring up that he didn't like public bathrooms – and if he was lucky Hannibal wouldn't press the issue any further.

Will kept his legs crossed as tightly as he dared. He very nearly resorted to shoving a hand between his legs to hold himself; he had to piss so badly he was almost worried he wouldn't make it out the door. That thought _mortified_ Will. How would he live with himself if he ended up pissing his pants on a date – or in _public_? No, no, no; he _couldn't_ let that happen. He had to hold it for just a bit longer and then he'd be fine. There was no way he was going to wet himself.

Hannibal clearly started to worry somewhat, stroking Will's hair with the back of his hand again and quietly offering, “Would you like to go wait in the car for me? I can give you the keys.” The thought seemed promising for a fleeting moment, but before Will was even aware of what he was saying, he had rejected the offer.

“No, it's fine.” He spouted senselessly, likely flailing in some feeble attempt to defend his composure despite knowing fully well it was all but completely shattered at this point.

“Are you sure?” Hannibal murmured, leaning slightly over the back of Will's chair. Here he was giving Will a second chance, and yet Will was still sure to deny him yet again.

“Y-Yeah.” Will coughed, stammering as he yet again tried to pretend he could preserve his dignity. “I'm just tired is all.” He lied, leaning back in the chair as though relaxing but refusing to look at Hannibal's face. He could probably tell Will was lying, but if he still left the subject alone then it didn't matter.

Hannibal stayed quiet. Will silently thanked his good fortune and prayed it would continue. Eventually, a handful of people started filing out of the ballroom and not returning, at which point Hannibal took his cue and excused himself to go say a few goodbyes. Despite the obvious implication that Will was supposed to stay put, he immediately got up and followed Hannibal, regretting it the moment he felt gravity take effect on his bladder. He pressed his thighs together and had to stand still for a few seconds until the worst of the rush was over. A terse explanation of _“Head rush.”_ obviously didn't satisfy Hannibal, but kept him from asking any more questions. He managed to follow Hannibal as he caught up with the few people he actually wanted to bid farewell to, smiling and nodding mechanically and feeling thankful he didn't have to do much more than go through the motions. Will's weight swayed back and forth between his feet, barely managing to keep himself from hopping from one foot to the other in his all but frenetic desperation.

A suffocating sort of panic rose in his throat. Had he really overestimated himself that much? He felt so full that the threat of pissing himself was now constantly in the front of his mind. They were almost out now, finally headed out the ballroom doors and into the lobby, only a few feet from the front doors that opened into the parking lot, yet the thrill of relief seemed further than ever. Will's bladder hurt so badly he all but wanted to double over in pain, and he couldn't stop fidgeting even as the icy blanket of the cold night air fell over him. Breathing in the cool, crisp air felt more threatening than refreshing, even after hours of suffocating in the warm, perfumed atmosphere of the crowd inside. He couldn't tell if he was shivering from the abrupt cold or the sheer strain of continuing to hold it in while his body was all but ready to give out.

Looking out over the sea of cars immediately filled Will with dread. All that walking would not be kind to him. Then, as though reading his mind, Hannibal turned to him with a slightly sheepish sort of look and proposed, “Why don't I go get the car and bring it around for you?” As much as Will impulsively wanted to stay close to Hannibal, he knew very well he couldn't walk that much, and timidly agreed.

“I-I would appreciate it.” Said Will bashfully, with a curt not of approval. Hannibal nodded back at him and headed off briskly into the dark maze of the parking lot. Will bit his tongue and shoved his hands into his pockets, restlessly shifting his weight, a bead of sweat forming on the nape of his neck despite the cold. Other people were passing him, mostly filing out of the building, chattering softly back and forth like the first birds of the morning. None of them paid Will any mind, but he felt invisible eyes on him nonetheless. He knew he looked restless; staying still was basically impossible at this point, and he was constantly shifting and bouncing his weight in a desperate attempt to redistribute the pressure even the slightest bit. He must've looked like a complete freak standing out there, fidgeting incessantly and giving nervous glances towards everyone who walked by him. He felt ashamed to be seen like this by _anyone_ , let alone strangers, and though they most likely thought little to nothing of Will's presence he couldn't help but imagine each of them letting their stare linger on him for a moment, sly speculations about him damning their muddled whispers.

Minutes felt like hours. It didn't take Hannibal all that long to find the car and drive it up to the front of the hotel, but it felt almost like an eternity when Will was so worried about other people scrutinizing him. By the time Hannibal got back with the car, only a few short minutes later, Will was already fearfully picturing what would happen if he lost control right there where everyone could see him. Spotting Hannibal's car felt like a blessing, so much so that he eagerly bounded towards it as soon as it rolled to a stop and hastily swung the door open to leap into the passenger's seat, giving no consideration to how it would affect his already stressed bladder.

As soon as he landed in the seat, he immediately crossed his legs tightly and only barely resisted the impulse to grab himself, trembling faintly and hearing a faint, strained whine eek from his lips. His back folded and he half-hunched over before he realized what he was doing and suddenly sat back up, trying to pick his composure back up off the floor before Hannibal got too concerned. However, that was (expectedly) unsuccessful, for when Will turned to glance over at him he was pinning Will to his seat with as much of a worried expression as he'd ever shown.

“Are you alright?” Asked Hannibal softly.

“Y-yeah, yeah.” Will coughed, hastily grabbing for his seatbelt and fumbling with it for a moment before managing to strap himself in. As he struggled with his seatbelt, he felt the car slowly start to roll through the driveway, Hannibal gingerly navigating around the flow of the sluggish foot traffic. Will tried to relax back into his seat, but the lower strap of the seatbelt was sitting partially across his swollen bladder. He hooked a thumb underneath it in an effort to keep some of the pressure off, hoping that would help at least slightly.

As the lights of Baltimore glittered in the indigo nightscape outside the hotel parking lot, the lump in the back of Will's throat started choking him. It was about an hour and a half's worth of driving back to Wolf Trap, and he would be lucky to be able to hold it for another fifteen minutes. He had to swallow his pride and tell Hannibal he needed a rest stop.

“H-hannibal?”

“Yes?”

Will wanted to speak but felt the words catch in his throat and pile up on top of one another, the jumbled clot forming behind his tongue soon all but asphyxiating him. The awkward beat of silence that ensued felt no less frustrating than the prospect of humiliating himself by confessing his impairments to Hannibal. Will cleared his throat to untangle the necessary words and barely managed to unstick his tongue from the dry roof of his mouth.

“I-Is it alright if we...if we stop by your place before you drive me home?” Will stammered gracelessly, the hot embarrassment underneath his clothes only exaggerating the tireless, painful throbbing of his overfilled bladder.

“Well, certainly, if you'd like to.” Said Hannibal, with some audible reservation. “What do you need there?”

Will discreetly slid his hand between his thighs and cupped himself, hoping Hannibal wouldn't notice. “I need to use the bathroom.” He blurted out as quickly as possible, as though he didn't want Hannibal to actually understand him.

“Didn't you use the one at the hotel earlier?” Hannibal questioned, obviously having understood Will well enough. Will felt blood rush to his cheeks and turned his face towards the window, deliberately avoiding any slight glance Hannibal may have passed in his direction as they rolled to a stop at a red light.

He bit his lip. How many more red lights were they bound to run into on the way to Hannibal's? And, more pressing than that, what sort of answer was he supposed to give?

“I...I couldn't.” Will's voice was nothing more than a shameful squeak by the time he finally forced the words past his lips. All that came from Hannibal's side of the car was pensive silence. Will's lip trembled and something like a sob hit his tightened throat. “W-when I'm in a public bathroom, I just...I c-can't...” He floundered, wishing there was some way he could hide inside himself until this fit of near-tearful shame petered out.

“It's alright.” Hannibal murmured, in a peculiarly soft and tender voice for his normally stoic demeanor. “I understand.” He soothed calmly, trying to get Will to clear his thoughts rather than struggling to overexplain his bathroom anxiety. When Will did not continue, Hannibal then spoke over the silence. “Is this what's really been bothering you all this time?” He asked, in a delicate, concerned voice that only served to make Will feel even more ashamed of himself. The flow of traffic in front of them stopped and shifted, the light turning green and the car starting forward smoothly – but not smoothly enough to not make Will's bladder lurch and his hand bear down on his dick in a passionate attempt to keep himself from leaking onto the seat of Hannibal's car.

Will swallowed around the lump in his throat and managed to choke out an, “ _Mmm-hmm_.” It sounded just as weak and pathetic as he felt, and he kept his eyes glued to the window, the cold outside world offering him no comfort.

“Oh, Will...” Hannibal's concerned croon hit him like a bullet. All things considered, he should've felt glad that Hannibal wasn't shunning or questioning him like he'd feared, but instead he just felt feverish with embarrassment at Hannibal fussing over him. “Poor dear. Why didn't you tell me sooner?” Pleaded Hannibal, who would have no doubt been giving Will his best saccharine sympathetic look if he had been able to take his eyes off the road.

“Because it's embarrassing...” Will muttered guiltily, fidgeting restlessly and trying not to look back over at Hannibal. Outside, the lights and shadows of nighttime Baltimore surged past him, not allowing Will to focus on any one thing for all too long. He didn't know the city well; his surroundings would likely be unfamiliar for a little while yet, leaving Will with no idea how long it would take to get back to Hannibal's house.

“Oh, you don't have to be embarrassed.” Hannibal hummed, his voice soft and welcoming, though Will remained just as ashamed as he'd been before. “I would have taken you home to use the restroom.” Hannibal offered, perhaps as an attempt at consoling him.

“Well, it's too late now.” Growled Will, shoulders hunched uncomfortably. He immediately scolded himself internally for being so snappish towards Hannibal, who was only trying to make him feel better. He wanted to apologize but instead just whimpered and stammered, “J...Just drive.”

Hannibal didn't say anything. Will wondered if he had offended the other man, but all he did was press the side of his head against the cool glass of the car window. It provided him with a slight bit of relief from the pressing heat encompassing his entire body. While it certainly wasn't enough to lessen the pressure bearing down on him from just above his waistband or the tumultuous roiling of regrets in his head, it did manage to soothe him for a few precious, fleeting moments.

Will closed his eyes, blocking out everything but the rushing lights which flickered through his eyelids. Every time the car stopped he bit his lip, clutching himself as hard as he dared. Each tiny jolt as the car turned, stopped, or started moving again felt like being punched directly in the bladder, causing fear to rise like bile in the back of his throat. He wasn't going to be able to hold it for much longer, and he was still far too disoriented to have any clue as to how far away Hannibal's was. His mind swung back and forth between extremes, one second being certain he could hold it for long enough and the very next being certain he was going to piss himself right then and there. Pitiful mewls and whimpers kept floating out of his mouth without his consent.

“Are you sure you don't need me to stop somewhere else first?” Questioned Hannibal with audible worry, eyes flickering towards Will for one tense moment.

“No.” Will once again spat out the first thing that came to mind, then realizing not a beat later that that was an unclear answer. “I mean, don't. Please. I just...” He stumbled, barely able to form a single thought at this point. “I just wanna go home.”

Will hated how piteous and infantile he sounded when he heard himself whining _“I just wanna go home.”_ , but it seemed that acting shamefully was just a trend for tonight. He had hardly done anything in the past few hours that he _didn't_ consider entirely pathetic.

“We'll be there in a few minutes.” Hannibal consoled him, not saying anything about how deplorable of a state Will was in. Will bit his lip; a few minutes could be too long.

“Hannibal...” He squeaked, his voice betraying him and shattering into silence after a single word. “I-I don't know if I can...i-if I'm going to m-m...” Then Will's lip quivered and his words were choked into a quiet sob.

“It's alright.” The other continued to reassure him. “Don't worry. Just try to be calm; we're almost there.”

He was talking as if he didn't know what Will had been trying to admit, but Will was sure he did. How could he act so nonchalant? Will's insecurity hummed like a live wire threaded through all his thoughts, hissing to him not to trust the calm and soothing persona Hannibal was presenting. He was probably only being reassuring because he didn't want Will to piss all over his car; underneath that he may very well have been frustrated and disgusted and flooded with secondhand shame. He convinced himself quickly it was nothing but a disingenuous farce, and effectively negated any comfort Hannibal's words could have given him.

As if intentionally making to aggravate the situation, another driver pulled out in front of them unexpectedly, causing Hannibal to have to make an abrupt stop, at which Will lurched in his seat and yelped at the unexpected jolt. A spurt of urine shot from the end of his cock, causing a wet spot to suddenly blossom underneath his hand. Fortunately, the stream did not continue, stopping after just a single leak. The high-pitched whimper that forced its way out of Will's mouth sounded suspiciously like a weak “ _No…”_ , lip quivering rapidly as though he was about to start sobbing. Hannibal huffed in annoyance at the indignance of the other driver, then gave Will a discreet glance to assure he was alright. Will knew he must've looked like a mess, face red and legs shaking from the sheer effort of clenching all his muscles to keep himself from spilling it all right then. He felt so desperate, so helpless, his control over his own body slipping with every passing moment – not to mention weak-willed and full of self-loathing for the shortfalls which had led to this point.

If he wasn't so hopelessly oversensitive and socially crippled, they could have had a perfectly fine date, ending with some nice intimate moments and fluttering flirtation on the ride home, rather than with Will on the verge of pissing himself in the passenger's seat. Staring miserably out the window, he realized that their surroundings had at last become mostly residential, tall handsome townhouses with a mixture of dark and dim windows sleepily watching the quiet nighttime streets.

“Almost there, sweet.” Purred Hannibal kindly. “Just another minute or so.”

Will bit his lip. The wet spot rubbing against the end of his cock was making his need even worse. He knew he wasn't going to be able to get all the way to the bathroom. Yet, by the time he had worked up the willpower to say anything, the car was slowing and pulling up alongside the curb. Within a moment the car was parked and Hannibal turned the key to soothe it. Without the steady hum of the engine filling the silence, the air felt as dry and inhospitable as suffocating smoke. Will tried to speak, but all that came out his mouth was a weak hiss of air as Hannibal swiftly opened the driver's-side door and stepped out, leaving Will behind with his unspoken words for yet another few anguishing moments. When he came around and opened the passenger's side door, the cold air from outside flooded in and washed over him like a crushing tsunami. He had to close his eyes to be able to concentrate enough to speak.

“Hannibal, I'm not...I'm not going to make it.” He professed, in the hushed and somber voice of one sharing a grave secret.

“Do you need help getting up?” Asked Hannibal tenderly, after just a beat of knowing silence. He said nothing accusatory, made no expression of insistence or disgust. Will felt unworthy of such delicacy being genuine. He bit his lip and nodded, slowly and reluctantly. Hannibal extended a hand and Will took it, letting Hannibal take the brunt of his weight as he swung his legs out of the side of the car and put his feet on the ground. Gravity hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt another burst of piss escape and dampen the front of his pants. He shoved his thighs together again and bent his knees, all but collapsing to the ground as his balance wavered. Looking up through his shaky vision, the door at the top of the short concrete stairs seemed impossibly far. It was _so close_ – it was right there, and yet 'right there' was still beyond his reach. Hannibal laid a hand on Will's shoulder to help him steady himself, but Will did not react.

The way he saw it, he had two options: either give up right then and there, let it all out while Hannibal stood right by him and watched, or try to make a run for it.

He chose the latter.

Will's mad dash towards the metaphorical finish line was short-lived; he tripped trying to start up the steps and only barely managed to stabilize himself by seizing the railing and leaning most of his weight onto it. That interruption was more than enough to push him over the edge, a hot, ardent stream of pee immediately shooting from his cock. Will's knees shook and he tried weakly to press his thighs together, but he knew he had lost the battle.

At first there was actually a brief spell of thoughtlessness; the rush of relief that came when the jet of piss didn't stop was nothing if not sheerly overwhelming, wholly smothering any sense of shame for but a few blissful moments. Will uttered a meek gasp that morphed halfway into a moan, closing his eyes as he felt his strained bladder finally relax and let out that pent-up flood of urine. It actually felt _good_ , almost orgasmic in its intensity – a long-awaited release at last granted to him after hours of struggling and resisting, fighting until it hurt, until he barely even wanted to fight anymore.

After a few seconds of basking in the bliss of allayment, Will realized what was happening and uttered another ragged gasp, this time fluttering with panic. Staring down at himself, he saw a dark, glistening wet spot rapidly growing on the front of his pants. Holding his thighs together only served to dampen his pants even faster, the stream flowing straight through the fabric and coursing quickly down his legs before trickling to the concrete below. Will clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the fevered string of whimpers and sobs that erupted from him. His legs shook helplessly and he managed to lower himself even further, nearly falling to his knees yet again – though this time for entirely different reasons.

A muffled _“Fuck...”_ joined the cloud of vague, frenetic sounds that echoed off the inside of his palm. He half-reached for his crotch but stopped once he realized it would do nothing but soak his hand as well. He didn't dare look up to see where Hannibal was, and felt glad at the very least that it was dark out and late enough that nobody happened walking by. As well, Hannibal's car was still mostly obscuring him from the street, so hopefully no-one else would be able to see him. Well, no-one except Hannibal.

Will shut his eyes tightly and sobbed into his hand. He wished he could shut out all of it – the feeling of the hot current of piss coursing down his legs and soaked fabric sticking to his skin, the hissing sound of the stream and the trickling noise as it melded into the rapidly-growing puddle beneath him. It was shameful and horrible and humiliating, but he was completely helpless to stop it now. All he could do was close his eyes and wait for his bladder to empty itself.

After what felt like an eternity, the forceful stream abruptly slowed and stopped. The warm sense of relief had ended and now all he was left with was the crushing knowledge that he had just _wet himself_ as a thirty-five-year-old man – and in front of his boyfriend, no less. Will's eyes opened but he still didn't lift his head, instead continuing to stare blankly at the puddle of piss which had settled around his feet. The pungent reek of it was thick and heavy in the air, choking his nostrils with every staggered breath. He couldn't bring himself to look up and see whether or not Hannibal was there; his mind was thrashing back and forth in panicked speculation as to what Hannibal must've thought of him. If he hadn't managed to make Hannibal feel completely ashamed of him before, then he certainly had now.

He was all but soaked from his groin down to his feet, with the cold night air rapidly cooling that large wet swath and bitterly reminding him that this was all real. Will felt hot tears start to well up at the corners of his eyes and his breath hitch at the bottom of his lungs. He didn't know what to do. He felt like he couldn't move; other than the trembling of his legs, he was frozen in place, staring down at nothing and wishing he could find it in himself to do _something_ – to take a step, to look up, to move at all instead of standing there with his hand clamped over his mouth sobbing miserably at the ground.

If there hadn't been anything to shock him out of it, then he may very well have stood there for hours paralyzed by shock and his own feelings of helplessness. Indeed, Will was so trapped within himself that even the presence of a hand on his shoulder felt alien and indecipherable for a moment. He barely even realized what was happening, robotically lifting his head to see what had touched him and in doing so finally catching sight of _Hannibal_ , standing next to him with a gentle look of concern on his face. “Will...” He said, in a soft and tender voice. “Come on, let's get you inside, hmm?” Hannibal offered, raising his eyebrows curiously to await Will's response. Will, scarcely having even registered the meaning of his words, choked on a sob and then nodded, more out of instinct and muscle memory than anything else. He shakily straightened himself up to his full height again and hauled himself up the short stairs, Hannibal following closely to make sure he didn't trip over himself. Once he had regained a sliver of confidence in his own ability to maneuver himself, Will quickened his pace to a hasty shuffle, scrambling towards the door only to find it slightly ajar already. He hadn't even noticed Hannibal walking past him to unlock it earlier – though that at least that meant Hannibal hadn't been standing there gawking at him in disgust the whole time.

Will shoved the door open and ducked inside as quickly as possible. Hannibal followed, smoothly stepping in and closing the door behind him in one elegant motion. As soon as the door clicked shut, Will collapsed against the wall and slapped his hands over his face, his fit of crying leaping from running tears and stifled sobs into full-blown hiccuping and hyperventilating – miserable, ugly crying. He held his eyes shut. He didn't want to see Hannibal. He didn't want Hannibal to see him, either; he just wanted to curl up into a miserable little ball and hide inside himself until it was all over, until it was safe to come out and take care of his shame in peace. His life had certainly not been without its fair share of awkward and embarrassing moments – on the contrary, he'd had plenty of them – but nothing like _this_. He would have _gladly_ relived any of his most shameful public blunders if it meant he could get out of having pissed himself in the walkway outside his date's house in direct view of the man.

“Will...” Sought Hannibal yet again, hand returning to its now-familiar spot on Will's shoulder.

Will recoiled violently and sobbed, _“Go away.”_

“I only want to help, dear.” Hannibal murmured, this time not touching Will. Will kept crying, unable to stop the constant flow of warm tears against his palms as he covered his face (which he continued to do, despite Hannibal obviously being aware that he was crying). He couldn't imagine how Hannibal could possibly help him; he felt so rife with despair he could hardly picture _anything_ making him feel better.

He certainly hadn't expected to feel Hannibal's arms wrap around his shoulders, to have the other man embrace him and hold him close, seemingly without any fear of the wetness that encompassed his lower body. Hannibal gently laid his chin on Will's shoulder and lifted a hand to pet his hair reassuringly. “It's alright.” He murmured. “It was only an accident.” He continued to smooth Will's soft curls with one hand while he held Will tightly with the other arm. Will sobbed and continued trying to hide his face. Sure, that would've been a fine excuse if he'd been a _child_ , but he was a grown man; Hannibal's words were far from comforting to him. In fact, his tenderness almost made Will feel _angry_. That wasn't the right reaction; Hannibal was supposed to be disgusted and disappointed and just as ashamed of Will as he was of himself. Was Hannibal just patronizing him?

Will tried to withdraw even more, but shouldering Hannibal away proved mostly ineffective. “It's alright, sweet.” Hannibal repeated, voice smooth and level in contrast to Will's frantic whimpers and sobs. “It wasn't your fault.” Hannibal continued to console him, his warm breath hitting the side of Will's face and coursing back towards his ear. As much as he didn't want to be comforted, Will now finally gave up and uncovered his face, wrapping his arms around Hannibal and allowing himself to embrace the other man, but sill making sure Hannibal couldn't see his face. Hannibal lifted his head and laid a delicate kiss against Will's cheek, his lips catching a wayward tear.

“I feel s-so ashamed.” Will managed to spit out gracelessly between sobs. “I ruined our date. All b-because I'm...”

“No, no.” Hannibal shushed him. “Don't be hard on yourself. You're not to blame. It was merely...an unfortunate set of circumstances.” He asserted, calm and kind but still with a distinct firmness about him, a soft steadiness to his voice that conveyed a sense of _sureness_ , of _stability_. It made Will at last start to feel safe in Hannibal's arms. He squeezed his arms tightly around Hannibal and pressed his face into the crux of his shoulder, as if Hannibal's embrace could hide him.

Hannibal brushed Will's hair back in order to kiss him softly on the forehead. “I should have been more considerate of you.” He apologized. Will wanted to protest, to tell him that he couldn't have known, but all that came from his mouth was another short, strangled sob. Hannibal shushed Will softly as his fingers continued to comb through his hair. “I'm sure you'll feel better once you get cleaned up.” He purred, warm and reassuring. Will yet again felt like he didn't deserve such sympathy, not after he'd put Hannibal through all this alongside him, and especially not now that Hannibal also had to take on the responsibility of consoling and cleaning up after him. “Whenever you're ready, I'll help you.” Hannibal continued, his embrace unrelenting, determined to remain there to steady Will for as long as he needed.

Hannibal was holding him quite closely, still apparently with no regard for whether or not he got his own pants wet as they pressed against Will's soaked slacks. He could feel Hannibal's breathing, deep and lapsing slowly against his chest, the welcoming warmth of his body, the bulge of his cock pushed up against Will's inner thigh...

Wait, a _bulge_?

Will's slowly petering sniffles and sobs seemed to stop all at once; his eyes suddenly opened wide and he shifted his weight curiously, hips pushing forward to press harder against Hannibal, all but grinding onto what was now quite clearly an erection.

“Will...?” Coughed Hannibal uncertainly.

“Hannibal, you're...uhh, you're _hard_.”

Will had _never_ seen Hannibal blush before, but the very second those words finished leaving his mouth Hannibal's cheeks positively lit up, rosy pink shining through his olive skin. “Ah – please, don't worry about that.” Hannibal all but stammered, far more flustered than Will had ever seen him. It was _fascinating_ to suddenly see Hannibal act so uncharacteristically shy; Will was fixated immediately. Curiosity swelled and sparked within him, managing to eclipse his shame for just a little longer and encouraging him to press further despite Hannibal's urging. Will slid a hand down between their bodies and pressed his palm against the definite form of Hannibal's hard dick, cupping him firmly and feeling a momentary thrill when he heard Hannibal bite back a moan.

“Is this...because of the humiliation, or the...?” Will staggered breathlessly from word to word, still rubbing Hannibal's erection as he did so.

“Will, please, of course I don't like seeing you upset like this.” Contested Hannibal, finally moving to wrap his hand around Will's wrist as though trying to stop the other man from touching him any more. However, his grasp was weak and he made no real attempt to pull Will away.

“S...So it _was_ the piss, then?” Huffed Will, giving his best attempt at a touch of humor.

“Will – d-don't bother yourself with it, please.” Hannibal continued to plead. Within the span of a minute, their roles had somehow reversed themselves, leaving Hannibal the awkward and shy one and Will the one attempting to coax him out of his shell. “Let's take care of _you_ , hmm?” He asked in a strained voice, his breath raspy and erratic.

“I'm just curious.” Will murmured, voice lowering as he realized that he was perhaps more interested than he would've liked to admit. This 'response' from Hannibal was definitely unexpected; even as keenly perceptive as Will was, he never would have predicted Hannibal being _aroused_ by something like _this._ Granted, it was quite the unexpected scenario in the first place, but Will's surprise had nonetheless gotten the best of him, leaving him suddenly much more fascinated than cowed.

And, after all...maybe it _was_ kinda hot.

Will felt a lump rise into his throat. _Was he_ turned on by all of this? By _pissing himself?_ Had he been getting horny just from the sensation of his bladder being so full it ached, of knowing he couldn't hold it for more than a few more minutes...or from the feeling of leaking into his pants, on the brink of letting it all go; or the feeling of all that hot piss he'd been holding in for hours finally pouring out of him in such a passionate torrent, blessing him with blissful release...

Maybe some of that shame he felt had come from the fact that there was a part of him that had actually _enjoyed_ this new experience; there had been times when he'd had to hold it in for quite a while before, but it had never been _this_ desperate, to the point where he truly couldn't keep it in anymore and spilled so wholly and uncontrollably through his clothes. That was a new feeling, strange and shameful and thrilling all at the same time.

Hannibal had said nothing further. Will was idly squeezing his cock through his pants, feeling it throb underneath the layers of clothing that continued to repress his erection. An idea sparked to life in Will's head, and he swiftly moved his hands to grab Hannibal by his hip bones, drawing him forward so that Will could thrust against him, letting Hannibal's groin rub into the wet spot on his pants. A torrid moan spouted from Hannibal's lips as Will ground against him, and he felt the other man's hips buck into the movement, eager to meet Will's thrusts and add to the friction.

“Will, please...” Protested Hannibal feebly. “You...you shouldn't have to see me like this; i-it's shameful...”

Will almost smirked, certainly not missing the irony to be found in that statement being directed at _him_ mere minutes after he'd wet himself right in front of Hannibal. “If I don't have to be ashamed, then you don't have to be ashamed.” He reasoned, trying to sound level and hide that hint of a grin that continued threatening to burst into full bloom. He was eager, excited, wanting Hannibal to share in this unexpected new pleasure. Moving to exemplify this, Will pulled Hannibal back in and ground his wet crotch against Hannibal's hard cock a second time, pleased to listen to him moan desperately yet again. “You can do whatever you like.” He offered, voice lowering to a desirous murmur now that he was sure Hannibal was close enough to hear. “At least then something good might come out of this.” Will half-teased, careful not to let Hannibal escape his grip.

“You're...you're sure?” Gasped Hannibal. Will felt Hannibal's cock give an impatient twitch from beneath its confines. Will nodded encouragingly.

He hadn't quite expected Hannibal to respond with as much vigor as he did. After Will gave his agreement, he immediately felt Hannibal's weight push against him, all but pinning him to the wall as Hannibal's hips bucked wildly, rubbing his erection aggressively into the soaking wet swath that covered Will's front. Will was taken by surprise, but didn't protest, staying there complacently while Hannibal humped him, listening to the rhythmic _slap_ of Hannibal's groin against his wet clothes. His cock rubbed against Will's, already rapidly hardening from the friction, the cooling wetness softening the feeling and somehow making it that much more arousing for the both of them. He felt Hannibal's harsh, hot breath scrape against his neck as he panted while he rutted – harder and faster every moment, as though already losing control of himself. It was so hot that Will was all but ready to lean back against the wall and let both of them come just like this.

However, it was still him who stopped Hannibal, not the other way around. The other man faltered and slowed down his fervid thrusts, breath catching as he tried to bring himself to stop. Will managed to work a hand between them and grappled ineffectually with Hannibal's belt, not trying to undo it so much as he was trying to draw Hannibal's attention there. He very quickly realized what Will was trying to do and took over for him, scrambling to get his cock out of his pants with more urgency than Will had ever seen from him. His erection immediately sprang up as soon as it was freed, head flushed a deep red and already leaking clear beads of precum. He was rock hard, and so much of it was just from Will being wet with piss. Hannibal immediately began stroking himself, still at a rapid pace, dark eyes fixed on that irresistible wetness.

“Take yours – take yours off too.” Hannibal stumbled, tugging at Will's pants in much the same way Will had been tugging at his mere moments earlier. Will took over for him, almost stunned when he felt the rush of cool air flood in over his underwear. His briefs were still soaked, leaving them so transparent he could clearly see every detail of his now-hard cock through them. Will moaned at the sight and instinctively his hand lurched down to cup his shaft and rub himself through his wet underwear. With unexpected force, Hannibal quite suddenly reached out to yank Will's hand away, before roughly pulling his briefs down over his cock to get full access to it. He wrung Will's twisted briefs in his hand several times, panting hoarsely as he felt piss leak down between his fingers, before finally letting go and grabbing Will's shaft to stroke him. His hand raced up and down over the length of Will's erection with furious speed, rough and almost painful but still feeling too pleasurable for Will to move against it.

Will moaned weakly, weight falling back almost completely against the wall. Hannibal pressed closer to him, slowing down the movements of his hand to relieve Will somewhat. After a moment, Will felt Hannibal's cock slide against his own, and he gasped softly, staring down stupidly to watch as Hannibal wrapped his hand as tightly as he could around both their sexes at once. They didn't fit as easily inside his fist together as either did on its own, with his fingers unable to meet his thumb on the outside, but the friction of cock against cock easily made up for the clumsiness of his strokes. “Still wet...” Hannibal gasped, so breathless he sounded all but desperate for air. “Mmh, I can feel it. _God_ , Will...”

The sound of Hannibal so positively _wrecked_ with desire pushed Will much closer to the edge than he'd expected. A cut-off moan forced its way out of his throat and his body writhed without his control, thoughtlessly trying to get _more_ , to get just enough to make him come. Hannibal noticed in an instant, the passionate fury of his arousal not serving to dull his keen perception in the slightest. Will whimpered shamelessly when he felt how quickly Hannibal stopped moving. He let go of both their cocks without so much as a pang of remorse, following up by pressing his body against Will's as fully as he could manage. “So eager already.” Hannibal hissed, hardly an inch from Will's face. His eyes were black with lust and his chest still heaving with every breath, but his lips were pulled into a cruel smirk. He bucked his hips again and sighed in satisfaction when Will gasped and panted needily in response. He gave back as well as he was given, rapidly rushing to meet Hannibal's pace. “You like this too?” Spat Hannibal, voice low and demanding.

“Y-Yes.” Will answered immediately, his voice little more than a desperate hiss. “I like being dirty.” He huffed between frantic breaths. “I like being wet...wet for you.”

At that declaration, Hannibal's brief spell of composure ended and he threw himself against Will, grinding his cock against Will's as fast as he could with uncontrollable, frenetic thrusts. Will held onto him and rode the rush, shocked to feel something thick and wet spurt out over his shaft and up his front. Hannibal was _coming_.

The weak string of moans right beside Will's ear seemed to confirm what he was feeling. He was so shocked by this sudden revelation that he almost didn't realize that he was coming as well hardly a second later. Wrapping his arms firmly around Hannibal, Will threw his head back and cried out in pleasure alongside the other man, feeling the friction between their cocks suddenly become hot and slick with a mixture of cum from both of them. The rushing, senseless high lasted for only a few seconds, but even that was much more than enough to leave Will all but collapsing to the floor a moment afterwards. If Hannibal hadn't been blocking him or the wall not immediately behind him, he very well might have just sunk to the floor as soon as control returned to his body. The two held each other there for what felt like hours, but in reality was not even quite a minute. They panted almost in rhythm with each other, chests pushing back and forth as they rested in the warm afterglow.

Eventually, Hannibal cleared his throat and slowly pulled himself back, seed sticking to his cock and his clothes. He slowly scanned Will for a moment before speaking; Will could only imagine how he looked, warm and flushed after his orgasm, Hannibal's spunk up his front and covering his softening cock, and still with his pants wet down to his ankles with slowly-drying piss. Hannibal swallowed deeply and then reached out to smooth Will's hair again. “Well.” He pronounced after a few moments of silence. “You probably want a shower now, I imagine, and we both need to get changed. Something of mine should fit you for the time being.” He continued, picking up his confidence quickly and now speaking almost as though nothing had happened.

“Y-Yeah, that's...probably a good idea.” Will coughed awkwardly, not sure how to handle Hannibal's response. Hannibal awkwardly re-adjusted his suit jacket, despite the fact that he still had his fly open and Will's cum all over his front.

“So, uhh...am I still invited out after this?” Will joked weakly. Hannibal's shy avoidance was suddenly replaced with a smirk and a chuckle.

“Oh, Will, you'll be invited out much more after this.”


End file.
